


tell me which one is worse (living or dying first)

by solar_crystals (moonlit_aura)



Series: do not go gentle into that good night [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Backstory, Child Abandonment, Family Dynamics, Gen, Near Death Experiences, Possession, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Sky Gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27327109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlit_aura/pseuds/solar_crystals
Summary: blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.or:how phil found technoblade, or rather how technoblade found phil, and how both of them helped wilbur find himself.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Series: do not go gentle into that good night [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991329
Comments: 43
Kudos: 534





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a two-parter and a prologue of sorts because this series is still Wilbur-centric. It's honestly probably an excuse to dump a buch of lore at you.
> 
> This is a bit longer than two others and I hope I caught all my mistakes but I'm honestly a bit sleep-deprived so. You know.
> 
> There is also a backstory series now, called 'and death shall have no dominion'.
> 
> TITLE: you should see me in a a crown by Billie Eilish
> 
> find me on twitter: @nightmareofhers

the boy was born into the violence.

it didn't phase him, not now, not ever. since the first moments he remembers, it's all he knows.

he doesn't know how he came to be or who his parents are and he honestly couldn't care less. they left a kid (who looked _a bit_ like a piglin but was human enough to deem him a target in the lands of the nether) in the middle of a warped forest, far away from the places piglins usually occupied. and even when he found his way into the crimson forest, he got rejected and attacked on the spot. he fought for his life from the beginning.

he ventures the nether and after a while he starts winning rather than nearly losing. he walks and walks and walks and he thinks insanity takes a hold on him because he starts seeking out fights and enjoying the battle. it's the only thing he knows that isn't a dreary routine of walking through nothingness.

so when he sees a human walk through the soul sand valley with a visible strain, he takes advantage of their weakness and kills them.

he traced back their steps to see if they had a place where they stored away some valuables but instead he found a frame made out of a cold, black material, a purple portal glowing within it.

there is nothing for him in the nether. so he takes a step inside.

* * *

the overworld is colder and more peaceful. it's not that the boy desperately craves violence _(not yet)_ and the lower temperature is certainly easier on him - he is mostly human after all - but he grew accustomed to fire and warmth and strife. besides, he didn't really figure out how to get edible food in this world and he was often hungry if he didn't find a place he could steal it from. that meant he was slower and that meant he made sloppy mistakes, some of which turned into way too close calls. and if he got injured, he needed to heal. if he was healing, he couldn't get food even through stealing. if he couldn't get food he grew weaker and couldn't heal at all. so he needed to get food.

in hindsight, a pretty bad idea.

funnily enough, he didn't get caught by the villagers but by a fucking stray zombie with a sword.

that's how he ended up laying under the tree, his back propped up against the trunk and his stomach with a bleeding hole in it. oh well. he had a good run, he supposes. way longer than he expected at the beginning.

* * *

he wakes up in a bed. he tries to get up but as he props himself up, his side screams in pain and he lets out an involuntary whine.

"woah, kid, lay back down!"

he throws his head to the side in the direction of the voice.

there's a man with blond hair, a hat and wings, sitting near the bed. his eyebrows are knitted together in a worried expression. 

"who are you." says the boy and his voice is scratchy from disuse.

the man gets up and gives him a small smile, even though his eyes are still worried. it's weird.

"i'm phil."

* * *

phil, it turns out, is an adventurer. he goes around the world, fights stuff and finds other, less murderous stuff to sell or use. it's actually pretty cool but now he stays in one place because he heard there was something going around the nearby villages, stealing food and killing people. oops.

phil heals him from his injuries and gives him food to replenish his energy. the boy honestly doesn't know why and he pretends to not care. he plans on leaving when he's better anyway, because he figures that's what he's supposed to do until phil says,

"you could stay with me, you know. it's obvious you don't have a place to go and i don't mind. it's nice to have company for once."

he says that offhandedly, as if it doesn't throw everything completely off-balance.

"do i have to?" the boy asks, willing his voice to not shake and putting on an act.

"well, i can't force you into staying with me, can i?" phil grins at him. "just know you're welcome to."

* * *

he stays.

* * *

"what's your name anyway?"

the boy blinks, still walking through the forest behind phil. it's a fair question, he supposes. it's just that the answer isn't all that interesting.

"i don't have one."

phil stops walking and turns around to look at him.

"really?"

"really."

"didn't your parents give you a name?"

"they left me in the forest around six years ago. i was maybe four. don't really think they were the loving type."

phil just stands there for a moment. he looks kind of sad and the boy thinks that maybe he should've been a bit less blunt but it's too late for that now.

finally, phil turns around to walk again and says,

"well, if that's the case, you ought to think of some name for yourself, huh?"

the boy starts thinking.

* * *

"technoblade sounds cool." he says miles later.

phil starts laughing and once he stops, he muses,

"yeah. yeah, it does, champ."

phil walks onward.

technoblade follows.

* * *

they are passing through the village and technoblade looks at the preacher speaking to the villagers in front of the church.

"what is he talking about?" he asks phil, who is looking through his bags for valuables to trade.

"the sky gods, probably. you can go listen in if you're curious. i'll be over there, near the fountain."

technoblade nods and jumps off the fence he was sitting on to come closer.

"—and their hands are the hands of creation and gift, able to conjure up whatever their heart desires. they look down on us from above and observe. they may bring us prosperity or despair but it's incomprehensible for us mortals to find out why they do so. know however, that everything they do, they do for a reason and for greater good!"

technoblade tilts his head.

"the chosen ones may be fortunate enough to see them and be granted their wisdom and mysteries but it's a secret between them and the gods only, never to be known by others. the day shall come though when we all will see the sky gods and our woes will be no more!"

technoblade squints his eyes and goes to find phil.

"is what they're saying true?" he asks bluntly, not taking attention to the woman behind the stand who took a satchel of ender pearls from phil and gave him a handful of emeralds in return.

"well, it depends on what exactly you're asking about."

"if no one knows about these chosen ones then how does this man know about them? and how can you conjure up something from nothing?"

phil sighs, thanks the woman and turns away from the stall, motioning technoblade to follow him.

"i honestly don't know how much of it is true." says the man quietly. "the first legends about them seem plausible - they live on the floating islands high in the sky, they can fly without any wings or magic and they can summon any item they want if they really want it. they say there's a grain of truth in every legend. but they're just that - legends. told to entertain or, in the preacher's case, give hope. the belief in sky gods is very important for villagers. it _may_ be true to some extent but i wouldn't know."

"i don't get it." mutters technoblade. "why believe in something blindly, just to have hope?"

phil puts his backpack on the ground to get out the pouch with emeralds and glances at him.

"sometimes, hope's all we have left, techno. besides, the villagers adapt a very idealized version of the sky gods belief. i suppose they need it in their lives to break out the routine and give them something to live for."

"what's the not idealized version then?"

"well," the man puts the gems he just got into the pouch and tightens its rope before throwing it back into the backpack. "some say that the voices of the sky gods make you mad and the chosen ones are their puppets. it's all kinda bizzare, so i avoid it."

technoblade doesn't say anything at that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost a wip for this because Google Docs is actually the worst and then wrote it again in like three hours fueled by sheer power of rage and spite. It's now 2:30 am. I have a Literary Studies lecture in 5 and a half hours. That's... not gonna go well.
> 
> BUUUT anyway, LORE DUMP in this chapter! I had so much fun with it guys, like, actually, it's awesome to play around with it. Some explanations will be at the end to avoid spoilers.
> 
> Hope you like it! Dunno when the next part is gonna show up and if it'll be as big as this but I hope to start it soon!

it's been quite some time now since phil took him in. they settled in one place for a while - people say that phantoms here have grown immune to the sun and won't stop tormenting the villages near. phil can fly so he decides to find out if it’s true and get rid of whatever is causing the problem. he leaves during daytime when it's not that cold up in the sky and the phantoms are weaker. technoblade plants vegetables the way phil taught him to in the small garden they set up temporarily and sorts through their belongings, throwing out worthless items. he always expects phil to be gone for a while, to come back only when it’s dark.

except phil barges into their hut maybe four hours after sunrise, carrying a person.

"start a fire." he says to him in a tense voice before settling the stranger down on the bed.

techno runs outside to get some of the wood stacked against one of the walls and throws it into the furnace inside the house, igniting it quickly. phil is rummaging through their chest now, looking for something and technoblade can get a good look at the stranger.

it's a boy. techno couldn't say how old he is but he's probably somewhere around his age, maybe a tad older or a bit younger. he has dark, curly hair and has a yellow sweater on. he's pale, unconscious and looks like he hasn't eaten in ages. techno should know. he furrows his brows. 

"what happened? where did you find him?"

phil says nothing as he rushes past him with a healing potion in hand.

jeez, thanks, phil. well, okay, maybe now is not the best time for explanations but it'd be nice to know what's going on.

the man uncorks the bottle and pours the contents into the stranger’s mouth. suddenly the boy starts coughing and flails around in panic the moment his mind catches up his body is awake.

"no!" he shouts out. "no, no, no, no!"

technoblade looks while phil tries to calm the boy down, his words drowned out by the noise. these screams are screams of someone who is scared out of their mind. these screams sound like people who are about to be killed.

"get out! get out of my head!" pleads the boy, his hands covering his ears and tears streaming down his face. phil puts his hands on the boy's shoulders and shakes him gently, once again attempting to get his attention and to calm him down. the boy shakes his head and it seems that only after a moment he feels safe enough to open his eyes slightly to glance at the man.

“please, help me.” he pleads in a shaky voice before his eyes fall shut and his body goes limp.

there’s a moment of silence. phil settles the boy back down, sits down on the bed and doesn’t say anything for a longer while, looking at the wall with an unfocused stare. technoblade stands in the middle of the hut, not quite sure what to say. finally, the man breaks the heavy aura surrounding them and says:

"he's very cold, we need to warm him up. i think there are some blankets in the storage room, go get them. we also need to hunt down some rabbits and grab vegetables from the garden for the stew.” phil's words are clipped as he glances back at the boy before getting up with a heavy sigh. “in the meantime, i’ll try to think of a way to help him.”

techno goes to get the blankets.

(when they cover the boy up, techno's hand brushes his cheek. it's ice cold.)

* * *

a pattern develops after that.

the boy occasionally wakes up, the same expression of horror on his face before he realizes where he is. even then, his eyes dart to the sides constantly and sometimes he curls up to cover his ears and head.

they force warm food into him whenever they can but there are still cold shivers shaking him to the core, despite the three layers of blankets he’s under.

he doesn’t talk a lot when he’s awake. for a long time they don’t even know his name. it’s completely fine in techno’s humble opinion-  _ he  _ also doesn’t talk much, so a lot of the time they just stay silent, the boy laying down and technoblade sitting nearby, going through the books phil collected during his adventures. sometimes he holds out a book to the boy and sometimes the boy accepts it and then they read together.

_ (sometimes, when phil is home and not out fighting things, he sees the way the two gravitate to each other, with an understanding that can only exist between broken kids, and his heart aches) _

it’s warm outside again so techno often leaves the door of the hut open when he’s out gardening. that way he can observe the boy, and if the boy is awake, he can look at what the other is doing and at the trees of the forest surrounding them.

sometimes, he talks instead of being quiet. he talks about phil and himself, and the places they went to, and things they saw. the boy listens, distrust and fear slowly morphing into something more neutral, occasionally resembling curiosity.

* * *

they find out what the boy’s name is maybe a month after he appears.

technoblade tells him how he got his name - that he thought of it himself and that’s why it’s the best because who else can name him better than he alone. phil is snickering silently in the corner, tinkering around the brewing stand.

“my name is wilbur.” the boy says in a hoarse voice.

technoblade stares, blinking. phil drops a glass bottle and turns his head around. there seems to be a pause in reality.

then phil smiles.

“nice to meet you, wilbur.”

that is also when they see the boy’s first, admittedly small and shaky, but real smile.

* * *

wilbur is asleep and technoblade is finally talking with phil about what actually happened.

“i found him on a floating island in the sky.” says the man and techno stares at him like he just said he went for a swim in a lake of lava for fun.

“i thought you said they were supposed to not be real,” he somehow manages to force out in a monotone voice.

“no, i said that there is a grain of truth in every folk story. they don’t appear out of nowhere, they have to be based off of  _ something _ .”

techno glances behind him at wilbur, still asleep in the bed. he was curled into a ball on his side, still trembling from the cold.

“...so what do you think happened to him?” he glances back at the man and mutters out a question he wanted to ask since the beginning.

phil looks at him and his eyes are sad.

“i think we’re both suspecting the same thing, techno. i just don’t know how to help him.”

* * *

_ (techno is out hunting and it’s phil who keeps wilbur company today) _

_ (“is that a guitar?”, asks the boy, noticing the object in the corner of the room. phil is still a bit surprised every time the boy talks) _

_ (“yeah. you want to play?”) _

_ (wilbur looks down at his hands. “i don’t know how.”) _

_ (“...i can always teach you the basics i caught up from here and there if you want.”) _

_ (wilbur tilts his head and smiles ever so slightly, and phil is glad to be the reason for that smile) _

_ (“i think i do, yeah.”) _

* * *

it’s been maybe over half a year and techno looks through another one of phil’s books, this time searching for some solution in-between the folklore legends and myths. soft, unsure but decidedly talented strums of a guitar resound in the background. sometimes wilbur misses a note because of the trembling of his hands caused by cold or because of deconcentration caused by the voices in his head. but he’s gotten better for sure. both at playing and ignoring the cold and the voices.

the important paragraph in the book nearly escapes his eyes and he almost briefly skims it over but his eyes widen and he reads it again and again.

this… this could work.

he abruptly gets up from his chair and grabs a small knife they use for cutting paper for maps and books. wilbur’s music stops, a few last notes startled and distorted.

“techno, are you--”

“will.” he starts, walking up to him. “this is going to be blunt but i promise there’s a reason. do you know why you’re cold?”

the other blinks and looks to the side, eyes wide open and expression distressed.

“i-i…”

“it’s okay if you don’t because i think i do.” techno lowers himself to sit on the floor next to the bed. “you know by now that you don’t have to tell me anything but i have my assumptions and a theory how to fix it at least a little bit.”

wilbur’s eyes are glassy when he bites his lip and he stays silent.

“i need you to trust me. can you do that?” techno extends his hand to the other.

and there is the heavy silence, the worst kind that you can’t help but notice and it stretches into infinity and it’s like a rock chained to your throat dragging you down and choking you up until it ends, just like that, with a hand falling into another hand.

“yeah,” says wilbur, in a soft, barely audible voice. “i think so.”

“okay.” techno nods and squeezes the other’s hand as he starts talking. “so i think your body  _ may have _ forgotten that it’s yours and that it’s supposed to be.. a human’s body. that’s why you’re cold. because you’re…  _ technically  _ haunting your own body.” wilbur’s eyes begin to widen, so he quickly adds, “but i think i know how to fix it!”

he reaches to the knife on the floor with his free hand, lets go of the other boy and lightly cuts through his thumb. continuing to look at his hand, he says,

“it just needs reminding that it’s supposed to be… mostly human and that it’s attached to you, requires a sample of that sensation. and guess what.” techno looks up and his eyes glint humorously even though he isn’t smiling. “i’m  _ also _ mostly human. so i can help you. do you still trust me, will?”

wilbur looks at him for a long time. it probably feels longer than it actually is but there is a war of emotion in his eyes. then he closes them and nods.

“okay.” he extends his hand.

techno takes it and punctures the other boy’s finger as lightly as he can, trying to not notice how cold his skin is.

“ready?” he asks, holding his finger over wilbur’s.

“yeah.”

so they make a pact.

suddenly techno knows so much more emotions than a second ago and for a moment he hears what wilbur had to hear every time he was awake, and he feels indescribable respect because he almost goes mad from these few moments alone.

suddenly the hand touching him is warm and then he is dragged up onto the bed into a hug, the other not even hiding his sobs when he clings to him.

and suddenly technoblade has a brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. No, Will is,, was, not dead. It's just his self got forcibly overwritten to do the Gods' bidding and torn away from control so many times that it just,, detached. That is also why the voices were so loud. They were like,, on the same plane of existence as Wilbur's soul so they were kind of without a filter that is usually there when The Sky Gods speak to mortals. Fun. So to sum up, Wilbur's body thought "we,, we dead. we cold then." That's it.
> 
> The blood ritual is completely made up and is basically a very dramatic session of bonding over trauma with a telepathic twist. That's fun.
> 
> Phil is gonna go completely wild once he comes back. You'd think he'd be irked that the answer was right there the whole time but he's just proud that Techno solved it. They're,, soft,
> 
> find me on twitter: @nightmareofhers


End file.
